She has a birthday. She spends this birthday doing really fun things. She finds herself inundated by happy b-day messages here, there, everywhere and SHE LOVES IT. (Fear not. I am done referring to myself in the third person. This causes instant distress in all my Kids. The 3rd person, not the stopping.)

Writing group happens. Oh, writing group, I love thee. See, sometimes we redefine ourselves as “eating/cooking/moaning at the goodness of it all” group. But other times we WORK. And work is good, remember that? And I have some great direction for revisions.

There’s also the new gig: I get to be a Private Tutor. This is second only to my lifelong goal to be a Tudor. Okay, that is a total lie. I’ve never really wanted to be a Tudor. Just to dress like one. (Tights and Wimples, rah!) I am teaching writing to the two loveliest young men, as part of their homeschooling. And people, let me tell you this: It is Fun. We write. We talk. We eat an apple. We write some more. We read. We write. We laugh. We write again. I know, right? Am I the luckiest? Yes. Yes I am.

Familyness happens. And that is good. I like my family a great deal. They are lovely. And funny. And usually very nice to each other. And — did I mention — I like them? Well, I do.

And then there’s the revision. It’s going to be a big one. That may take forever. But that’s okay. I have as long as I need.
I can do what I need to do to make it what it needs to be. <— Did that sound like song lyrics to you? Well, maybe it should be.

Meeting with friends. Eating soup. Playing. Teaching. Presentations in classrooms. Making maps of the United States (okay, only one). Planning stuff. Visiting the sick and afflicted. Exercising with the company of the 2010 BBC Sense and Sensibility (for which Edward deserves his own post). Slogging through a novel that I should just put down already, as my TBR pile grows. Laundry. Soccer games. Cooking. Cross-country meets. Dishes. Watching leaves change (that happens early up here in the mountaintops, but it sure is lovely — come and see). Talking to my parents on the phone (which I love to pieces, but is also an adventure — repeat after me “speakerphone is an invention of the Devil himself”). Watching Kid 1 get asked to Homecoming (also deserves its own post). See? These are the things that keep us from the computer, right? The things that are life. And I’m liking these things.

***And now, I really must clean out a goldfish bowl. Yes, they’re still alive. Yes, this is 7.5 weeks. Yes, they’re growing on me. ***

HERE IS THE LINK to the UVU Wasatch ComEd page, where you can register for either my Teen class, or my Adult class (it’s like the 10:30 show, but without the language issues) [1]

The teen class is an extension of the totally fun library workshop we did this summer, and if you were there, you know that it was awesome. There was laughing. And there was learning. And there was more laughing. And if you weren’t there, no worries, because we’re starting from the beginning anyway.

The adult class (I just love calling it that, it feels so scandalous) is focused toward all of us who want to write, but somehow just don’t make it happen. Brain blockage? Time management issues? Too much pressure? Idea shortage? All this and more, we’ll smack down and get ourselves writing. No kidding.

So CLICK HERE to visit the site, where you can also find watercolor classes and guitar lessons and foodliness and all manner of goods. Try it. You’ll like it.

(ALSO… if you register before Wednesday, there’s a $5 off bonus! Which means you can afford to bring a big bag of peanut m&ms to class with you! I know, right? Who looks out for you? You’re welcome.)

—

[1] It’s actually nothing like the 10:30 show. That was a joke. And there are no language issues unless you don’t understand English. I don’t really teach well in Turkish or Afrikaans.

I think I feel like that all the time.

—

Writing. Writing. Writing.

—

I know.

How did that happen?

But hey. While time’s flying by, let’s take a minute to put a few things on the calendar, should we? (Oh, yes. Let’s.)

* August 8th, 10th and 12th (yes, that’s NEXT WEEK) I’m teaching a teen writer’s class at the Wasatch County Library in Heber City, Utah. It goes from 10:00 – 11:00 those 3 days, and guys — IT’S FREE. I know. I’m all about Community Service. Just ask my parole officer. [1]

We’re going to talk about some great writing tips. Great ones. So come, teens. You are all welcome. And wouldn’t it be excellent if we filled up a room? (Well, yes. Yes it would.)

* At some point near the end of the month (I know. Calendars. My nemesis. Nemeses?) the Community Ed class schedule will arrive in mailboxes throughout Wasatch County. I’ll be in there. Well, my NAME will be in there. Because I am teaching 2 classes. Fun ones. One will be an expanded Teen Writer’s class similar to the Library one (but longer… and, you know, not as free), and the other is about overcoming all the writing hurdles (like that long list of excuses we all have about why we haven’t written that book we’ve been meaning to write for EVER). If you don’t get a paper copy, call the UVU Wasatch Campus and ask for a catalog, because hey — WRITING CLASSES! As a personal favor, because I just Love You, here is the link to the actual registration page online. You’re welcome. Just CLICK THESE CAPITALIZED WORDS RIGHT HERE. Yes. You’re welcome. I’m all about making your life convenient. Classes start September 13th and run through October 18th on Tuesday evenings. Come. Bring a snack [2]. Let’s talk about writing books. Don’t live in the Heber Valley? Too bad. Just kidding — it’s not even guaranteed snow season yet. So brave the canyon and come join us. (Looks like each class is $54. BARGAIN!)

—

[1] THAT IS A JOKE. I do not have any sort of parole officer. I don’t even know anyone who is a parole officer. I have done nothing to deserve a parole officer. Or Community Service hours. I’m just a nice girl. Really, truly.

[2] I don’t actually know if you’re allowed to bring a snack. But I think probably you can. Because you’re so responsible. Like the kind of person who picks up wrappers and puts them in appropriate receptacles. Aren’t you?

So last night at the WIFYR mingle at The King’s English (I love you, The King’s English), Claudia Mills and I had a conversation that inspired me. (Not unusual to have that type of conversation with Claudia. She IS inspiring.) Here’s what we decided.

1. While publishing is very nice, of course, you can have a satisfying writer’s life w/o it. You can go on writing retreats with writer friends. You can join and enjoy critique groups. You can host a reading. In other words, you can introduce those parts of a writer’s life you think would be fun into your own life.

2. And speaking of fun, what’s the point if it isn’t? There are published authors (with a LOT of titles even) who can still grumble with great bitterness, “Look at everything I’ve done and what did it get me?” Where’s the joy in that?

Let’s have fun, you guys.

I love, love the idea of making The Fun a part of the writing experience. Because it should be fun, indeed. (And also work.) (But also fun.) This is why we choose to be writers, instead of paralegals or plumbers or tap-dance instructors — because writing and the write-y lifestyle can be so much fun. [1]

On that note, writing is happening here. (Insert happy noises.) A little at a time, and complete with some fun. The words come, the ideas come, the story grows, the word-count increases (why, why is that so important to me? oh, yeah. i’ve become one of those type-A types.) and It Is Good — the doing part. I’m not yet sure about the actual words. But that is not to be decided now. This is a first draft, remember?

[*DING*] Oh, look. It’s time to get outside with the kids and dig up more bulbs.

(Pray for us.)

—

[1] I am certain that paralegal work can also be fun. And tap dancing. Plumbing? I’m receptive to arguments either way. But for me, it’s all about the writing. And the reading. Oh, the good, good reading. (Ha! Made you wait!)

You are absolutely correct.

My fingers find your keyboard strange.
And strangely covered in crumbs.
(Who has been eating at the computer desk? Is someone new here?)

Your screen stares back at me, reflecting my face,
So you can see me smiling.
I am glad to be here, sitting in this uncomfortable chair,
Typing words
and words
and words.

Busy things get in the way.
Good things. Teachery things.
Bookish things. Writerly things.

And I am glad,
Very glad to be back.

Aah. Awesome weekend.
No blogs, email, news, or web.
Unplugging is good.

Here are some fun things that happened this weekend:

Cute cousins came for dinner. All ate and were filled. And there was much rejoicing. Kid 4 changed his shirt so he could match Justin, who is beyond all the coolness imaginable.

Saturday morning was a feast of good talks and great company.

One word: Jimmer. (*love*)

High school 3A State basketball champions, two years in a row. “Go, Angry Bugs!” (The quote, as well as the !, are Kid 1′s. The team is really Wasps. I know.) It was fun to go to the stadium and cheer with the rest of the town.

I can do more things at a time than I generally think I can do. I learned this over again, but would be happy to unlearn it any time.

R & B (the people, not the music) came for dessert last night. I made banana cream pie. I even ate a half-slice. And oh, yeah. It was luscious.

I’m working my way through (reading) 3 different books right now, and none of them will be finished to make the “Books read in February” list that I’m planning to post tomorrow.

My new MC in my current project is a low-maintenance young woman, and doesn’t seem to get in a snit if I ignore her for a weekend. That is extremely good news, since my weekends are more full of pie than writing, apparently.

The Rest of Today

Job interview now.
Gonna be a sub teacher,
When I feel the urge.

It is part of my life -
a part that I love and crave and enjoy.

But Living, that’s my life.

Working and playing and eating and cooking
and praying and reading and studying and serving
and singing and rejoicing
and loving
and laughing and crying
and exercising
and struggling
and even cleaning (sometimes)
and driving all over town
and moving across the living room with the sunspot in the afternoon.

And putting words on the pages.
Lots of words.
Sometimes bribing myself to stay in the chair,
Just two hundred more words.
Just one thing that makes you laugh.
Just one more hour.
Then you can have the thing you’ve been waiting for.

And other times,
magic times,
losing hours in the dance of creation.

And remembering that if I’m a writer,
I am also so many
other things. So many -ers.

And those things, those labels, those actions
and thoughts
and attempts,
and the ME that grows out of them,
and the love
and all those living parts,

that’s what I can write about.

Every day.

FUNNY! CANT YOU WRITE SOMETHING FUNNY? WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU? YOU’RE FUNNY, REMEMBER?

NOW PROVE IT.

—

I think here’s my problem. I’m trying to write like someone else.

Not so the book sounds like someone else wrote it. (Not that I haven’t tried that. Fail. Epic fail.) But more like, I’m trying to write the book from the beginning to the end, like so many writers can. And it’s dry as matzos. (I have a NewYear’sRes to use more Yiddish. Not really. I just love to try.)

See, I need to remember that I don’t really work that way. I’m not the orderly, outline-driven type. I’m the toddler playing with beads. “Oooh. Shiny. I like it.” Pick up a bead. Roll it around in my fingers. Sniff it. Hold it up to the light. Feel it get warm. Put it back. Pick up another one. Repeat until there’s a big, shiny, bright pile of beads. Then string them together. And find that it makes a story. (I’ve talked about this before. Several times. Like Here.)

But somehow I still have that Right Way guilt, like I need to do my story the way a Real Writer would.

Isn’t that bizarre?

So I’m going to read a few minutes’ worth of blogs, and then I’m going to try again. Not to write the next scene (the one that comes after the previous scene – which will SO LIKELY be deleted because it stinks), but to write what comes next – the next thing that my brain burps out.

I’ll be sure to let you know how that turns out.

2. Sleeping. I’m actually a much more productive writer in my dreams. Bummer.

3. Sadness. Some small but difficult things have happened over the past three months (which we’ll talk about later), and I have found it hard to be clever on the page. Things come out rather heavy and jolty, which is SO wrong for me.

4. Parenting. This is a laughable excuse since all 4 Kids are in school all day. But since school re-started, I’ve done a load of PTA-related school-Momming. And it gets in the way. So it goes on the list. I fully recognize those of you who do way, way, WAY more hands-on Momming during daylight hours and still manage to be writers. (A, I’m looking at you…)

5. Cooking. I’m on a healthy-food kick right now, so “cooking” isn’t even all that accurate – I’m eating more raw veg and fruit than a spider monkey. (I don’t know if that is actually true. I am not planning to do the research required to find out.) But I’m studying about food. And learning many fine things. Also baking some truly gorgeous brown breads (that have the bonus quality of tasting PERFECT.)

6. Fear. What am I afraid of? Oh, please. The answer is a post of its own. A very long one.

7. Stickiness. Do your writing projects get sticky parts? (Sticky Parts would be an excellent band name.) What do you do about those sticky parts? When I get stuck, I take a step backward (out of the stickiness, if I’m lucky) and decide: is this project worth the effort it will take to blast past this? If it is, I push. I sometimes find alternatives and work through several of them. I sometimes ask for help. But do you know that sometimes the project is not right? And that the stuck-ness is bigger than the project in the first place? And then I put it away. With a title or a note or something, so I could find it again someday, when I’m a much better writer with more cool brain-tools to do the project right. Or sometimes I just forget it.

8. Laziness. Ditto last sentence of above.

9. Small Annoyances. There is a dog somewhere outside my house (because Heaven forbid there EVER be a dog inside my house) that has been barking ALL DAY. Also all evening yesterday. People: It is cold. High temp of 20 today. Take Rover inside where he will be warm and I will not have to listen to his complaints. It’s totally stopping me from writing the great American novel. Thanks a lot.

10. Excuses. Do you live in a world where blog posts count as writing? Sometimes I do. And, you know, it IS writing. See these? These here are what we call WORDS. I wrote them. With my fingers on the keyboard. The words came out of my mind. (Out of my mind. Let’s just focus on that for a second, mKay? Fine. Enough.) Did you get out of the writing mojo over Christmas vacation? I totally did. Do you have any doubt that I can find an excuse for any non-writerly behaviours? Put that doubt to rest. I’m on it.